


Deadly Downtime

by AnnaTheHank



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Arcade, Competition, Gen, Post-Canon, friendly fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22551691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTheHank/pseuds/AnnaTheHank
Summary: The apocalypse didn't happen and no rush came Death's way. So they spent their time making high-scores at all the arcade games in the world.Clearly War, Famine, and Pollution have to show Death they're not the only one that can play games. With a little help from Pestilence of course.
Relationships: Death & Famine & Pestilence & Pollution & War (Good Omens), Death & Famine & Pollution & War (Good Omens)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 31





	Deadly Downtime

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh. My writer's block seems to know no ends  
> but here's the other fic that I wrote for the Ye Saga Continues Zine as one of the bonuses for the milestones achieved. I saved it especially for a time like this 😂😂😂  
> I hope you all enjoy this lil horsemen fun <3  
> Fingers crossed that my block dies so I can write more new stuff!

Death had some downtime on their hands since the apocalypse hadn’t happened. Oh sure, people were still dying, that was a given. But there hadn’t been quite the rush they expected, and modern medicine certainly didn’t help move the herd along. Death spent their time waiting for people to die, and playing arcade games to pass the minutes. All across the globe, kids found that as if overnight, a D. Eath had swept through and filled the high-scores on every machine. 

Wild speculations were thrown about over the internet. Who was this D. Eath? Was it a group of people playing some kind of elaborate joke? Was it a hacker who was practicing on arcade games before hitting something big? A few people’s ideas got close, citing that it must be some kind of ghost or supernatural being having a laugh. One person had suggested, about three months too late, that it was a sign of the coming apocalypse. 

Famine heard about it while he was making a business proposal to an arcade chain. He had a new line of ‘Frys™’ that, when ingested, would make humans sick, relieving them of all that unnecessary nutrition in their body. 

War heard about it while she was using an online forum to start a bit of a turf war. She had been taking over various accounts, claiming to own various buildings and streets. While claiming a particular strip of arcades as her own, she was asked if her name was D. Eath, and put two and two together.

Pollution had seen it. They had been overseeing the construction of a new landfill (which may or may not have had a few leaks in it) when an old machine was dumped in. It had malfunctioned, and even while unplugged the high score screen was stuck on, little skulls placed around the names, all the same.

They met up at Club Sega, one of the bigger arcades that had been hit recently. It was a Thursday afternoon and the three stalked about the floor, bells and chimes ringing in the air as brightly colored lights flashed around. They were searching for the game they had the best chance at winning. 

“We should split up,” Famine suggested. “We have a better chance at winning if we work on three different machines.”

“Do you really think we can beat Death?” Pollution asked. They looked around and smiled at the pure amount of non-biodegradable wrappings flowing out of garbage cans. 

“We’ll have to,” War said. She tilted her chin up. “Otherwise Death might go around thinking they’re better than us at _everything_.”

Famine bared his teeth, human, yet sharp. “Fan out. We’ll beat them this time.”

For all their high hopes and dreams, the three horsemen were actually quite bad at arcade games. 

Famine got distracted. A game called Burger Time. He had stood behind a child, watching with interest as they made the character run around on the screen, scooping up food ingredients to make a burger. That simply wouldn't do. Teaching children how to make food? Showing them the bigger the better? How ridiculous.

Famine reached out, the pads of his fingers pressing gently against the sides of the machine. 

“Hey!” the kid playing the game said. “There’s something wrong with this thing!”

A small crowd of kids from nearby wandered over to watch. As the kid ran over the burger ingredients, their score went down. They slammed their hand against the screen. The amount of enemy units in the game doubled.

“Left, left,” one of the watching kids shouted. “Now up!”

“I got it, I got it!”

“What’s the point?” another kid asked. “Building the burgers just makes your score go down.”

The kid playing cried out as their character was swarmed and killed. The children surrounding the machine frowned, one of them even kicking the game before they dispersed. Now that was a lesson to teach kids. 

Famine smiled over a job well done and ran about the rest of the arcade, fixing other games that needed it, such as Tapper and Food Fight. By the time the day was done, all of the food-related games in the arcade had been disconnected for maintenance repairs.

War, meanwhile, had found a game she quite enjoyed. A whole row of them, in fact. She grinned as she looked up and down, watching as kids holding plastic guns shot away at zombies and monsters and soldiers. 

“Hey, miss, you wanna play?” A kid at one of the machines was staring at her, holding up the second gun for the machine. 

“Thank you,” War said, taking the gun from them. She prepped it and aimed it at the screen, her grin widening into a proper smile. 

The kid tapped the play button and the screen came to life. War was very effective, shooting down anything that moved across the screen, running down robots and humans alike.

“No, no,” the kid said. “You aren’t supposed to hit the survivors!”

War didn’t hear them. Or she did and just chose to ignore them. She only had eyes for the game, firing at everything she could see, watching as they died and fell apart. It was over all too soon, the game alerting her that she had run out of possible errors. 

“What’s happened?” War asked, turning to the child. The child was gone, slipped away as she played.

War shrugged and picked up the other gun in her free hand. She tapped the play button with her knee, bringing the fun back on. With two guns, surely, she could get even more done. And she spent the whole day proving it.

Pollution had at least tried for a while. They had found a game called Paperboy. They had originally been drawn to it because the idea of throwing paper around on the street seemed excellent. 

Pollution had actually gotten a pretty good score before they figured out something interesting. They had missed a shot, sending the paper crashing through a window. Glass shattered and fell along the lawn. 

“Fascinating,” Pollution said, their eyes growing wide. “Look at all that glorious glass.” 

From that point on, Pollution was obsessed with breaking as many windows as they possibly could, littering every lawn and sidewalk with as much glass as they could.

“You’re really bad at this game,” a teen said, arms crossed as they watched.

“On the contrary,” Pollution said, eyes lighting up. “I’m doing rather well.”

“Right.” The teen shook their head, eyes rolling. “Whatever, weird-o.”

Pollution smiled. To think they made such a game as this. It tickled their fancy and they whiled the hours away, soft laughter accompanying each shatter of every window.

By the time the announcement came that the arcade was closing soon, they hadn’t gotten anywhere close to beating Death’s scores. They gathered by the exit, defeated and ready to call it quits.

“You didn’t even play any games,” War said, squinting at Famine. 

“I was doing important work,” he replied. “Some of us haven’t completely given up on our lives.”

War opened her mouth to speak, but it was not her voice that filled the room.

“Looks like you kids could use some help.”

The three turned to the speaker. They were wearing a fluffy robe, long and fantastical, accompanied by a pair of equally fantastic slippers. They sipped from a glass of wine, looking at them with pity.

“Pestilence,” Pollution said. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought you retired,” War said.

“Oh I did. I am. I just couldn’t stand to watch the three of you waste the day and not accomplish anything.” 

Pestilence smiled and finished their drink. They dropped the empty glass on the floor, winking at Pollution, and led them back into the arcade.

“I’m going to help you,” Pestilence said. “Follow me.”

The three did. They followed them all the way to the back corner of the arcade, where there was very little traffic. Pestilence walked up to a game called Dr. Toppel’s Adventure. They ran their hands over it, smiling softly.

“Are you sure this is the game?” Famine asked. 

“Oh, this is the one.” Pestilence turned it on and took a deep breath. “I taught Death how to play on this game.”

“You taught Death?” War asked.

Pestilence smiled at them and pressed play. The three horsemen gathered around, watching as Pestilence, with a steady hand and a steadier breath, expertly dodged attacks and shot down enemies. 

“Incredible use of force,” War said, nodding.

“Look at how empty the screen becomes,” Famine said. He leaned in closer to watch as Pestilence removed every enemy from sight.

“Yet lots of guts left lingering about,” Pollution added.

They all held their breaths, watching as the timer ran down and Pestilence reached the end of the game. So close now. Closer. Closer…

They let out a joint cheer, celebrating as the screen flashed ‘High Score’.

“And that,” Pestilence said, “is how it’s done!” They filled in the name NMBR.1 and smirked as the other three patted their back.

It didn’t matter that the very next morning D. Eath was back on top. That just meant that the four of them would have to get together again. Perhaps weekly. To show Death they had competition. Not because they were having fun. Of course not.


End file.
